


Quid Pro Quo

by radiantbaby



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Crack, F/M, fanfic cliches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-03
Updated: 2014-05-03
Packaged: 2018-01-21 18:16:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1559570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radiantbaby/pseuds/radiantbaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Donna Noble really needed to get laid. [Ten/Donna, somewhat cracky smut!fic]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quid Pro Quo

**Author's Note:**

> [This is an older fic from May 2008, but I'm working on posting all my fics here on AO3]
> 
> This was written for the LJ comm **marriedonmars** [ficafest](http://community.livejournal.com/marriedonmars/32861.html) (Prompt: 13. "I'll never get this out of my hair!"). I was very, very new to writing Donna and found her a bit of a challenge, so I hope that this turned out all right. It also turned out much longer than I had planned, as I never realized two people with so much UST could be so damned difficult to get into bed together, but there you go. Thanks so much as always to the super-dooper **persiflage** who betad this piece  girl, you are a star! Any other mistakes are all mine. Feedback is happy-making, so please leave a word or two [even if I am a bit slack in responding, your comments always make my day].

Donna Noble really needed to get laid.

There was really no way around it, no less crude way to even think about it. She didn’t want poetry-laden overtures, sweet caressing through the midnight (was there even a midnight when you travel in time and space?) hour, whispers of saccharine affection against her ear — No, Donna Noble just wanted sex.

And she wanted it _right now._

It was probably the Doctor’s fault. In fact, Donna was rather positive it was. They had just returned from a trip where he had taken the two of them to place called Philommeides-12. It was, in his words, a “pleasure world” and he had cited the reason for taking her there was to make up for some of the harsher aspects of his lifestyle they’d recently encountered.

The deaths at Pompeii, the enslavement of the Ood, the near destruction of the humans at the hands of the Sontarans…it was all in an average day for the Doctor, but Donna could still see it wearing down on him. That, coupled with his recent goodbye to Martha (who seemed a bit more to him than he liked to let on from what she could tell, but apparently space men were just as bad as Earth men about sharing their feelings and whatnot), meant he probably needed something “pleasurable” as much as she might have.

\+ + +

“You took me to a brothel?” Donna asked when they first arrived, playfully nudging his shoulder with her own. “Cheeky.”

The Doctor’s face turned rather red with a blush (something she was surprised that aliens had in common with humans). “No, of course not. I mean,” he stammered, helplessly flailing his arms a bit as he spoke, “there are such facilities here as well, of course, but no, it’s more than that. You can get massages, relax by the many pools, and even get yourself a manicure.”

“Is that what _you_ are going to do then — get yourself a manicure?” she asked him with a wink.

“I _might._ I am perfectly comfortable enough with my masculinity and sexuality to do so, I’ll have you know,” he replied, puffing his chest out in the most outrageously goofy peacock-like fashion.

“Of course you are, pet,” she said, patting his back in a playfully dismissive fashion. “So what else do you plan on doing here on Phi-Philo-Pho…?”

“Philommeides-12,” he corrected her, enunciating the word in his usual somewhat supercilious way, “Philommeides, Phil-om-mei-des, just rolls off the tongue. Actually, Philommeides was an epithet for someone whom you would know as the ancient Greek goddess Aphrodite. She is still worshiped around the universe in some parts, you know, even on this planet with some pretty ornate weekly rituals. You can read about them in the guidebook,” he gestured down at the folded plastic pages they’d received on arrival, “Anyway, Philommeides can been translated as both ‘laughter loving’ and ‘genital loving’ from Attic Greek. I _love_ that; there is a joke in there somewhere. Isn’t that great, Donna?”

Donna just rolled her eyes.

The Doctor was beaming like a little boy as he looked down at her and there was something seemingly so innocent and naïve about him, that hearing him speaking about his _masculinity_ or _sexuality_ or simply even him saying the word ‘genital’ seemed almost incongruous. He was like a child who’d read about sex in a library book and was trying to impress his mates at school with his knowledge, even though he’d never even seen a girl naked or even kissed one for that matter.

_Has he?_ Donna suddenly thought to herself, _Has he kissed someone? Has he even had sex?_

Donna shook her head free of the thought. The last thing she’d wanted in that moment was to try and imagine the Doctor having sex. She laughed a bit out loud about it in fact, as she pictured him, all elbows and gawky limbs and silly faces he might pull while having sex. The Doctor looked at her, still smiling and beaming, but probably thought she was laughing at the subject of his mini-History lesson.

_Better not let him think otherwise,_ she thought to herself.

\+ + +

Four days had passed on the planet before their return to the TARDIS. The Doctor had been right, it had been much like a pleasure resort with all sorts of things at her disposal. She’d gorged a bit on fine food and drinks, taken long baths in large seashell-shaped tubs, had several massages, a manicure, and even a few lie-ins.

She’d not seen the Doctor hardly at all during her stay, only passing him once or twice in the street or their hotel (his room was a few doors down from hers from what she could gather), or seeing him in the distance animatedly talking to other aliens, while sipping from a drink and wearing the most god-awful Hawaiian shorts (with his usual shirts, of course, and, oftentimes, his blue blazer as well). He’d sometimes just give her a nod or a smile — and sometimes she would pretend she didn’t know him as she was rather embarrassed by his attire — but otherwise he left her on her own to explore and enjoy things.

She had to admit, she’d missed the man and all his quirkiness a bit. He _did_ make things more exciting after all.

Now back aboard the TARDIS, she was feeling _mostly_ sated — except for the insistent sexual desires coiling within her. It had probably been all the sensual pleasures she’d partaken in over the past few days that had left her body tingling for more — more contact, more pleasure, _just more, more, more —_

She’d not had sex at all while on Philommeides-12, though it was rather obvious that she could have done so if she’d pursued it. There was just something about the alien male masseuses with their blue skin and serpentine yellow eyes that made her a little more _concerned_ than aroused.

_What did they have beneath their robes anyway?_ she had wondered, _And could they give me some disease, like space herpes?_

No, instead she just thrashed about in her bed night after night, one hand in her knickers and the other hand pinching her nipples and fondling her breasts, trying to relieve the sexual tension building within her.

Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to be doing the job.

It had been a few months since she’d had a proper shag. Living with her mum and Gramps made bringing men home a bit of problem, to put it mildly, so she was often left to shagging in office cubicles and atop photo copiers after hours with randy balding businessmen, or even the occasional young bloke looking to fulfill their fantasies of being with an older woman (the latter was something she rather enjoyed, if she were honest).

Still, switching jobs constantly and spending countless hours of free time trying to seek out the Doctor had left her love life rather…nonexistent. And now that she was traveling time and space with him — yeah, well, things hadn’t really improved much.

_Perhaps I should have just taken the opportunities with the blue men on Philommeides-12?_ she groaned to herself, pulling up her knickers, as she lay unsatisfied in her bed on the TARDIS. _Alien men might be interesting after all._

Donna finally got up, pulling her soft green robe around her, and putting on her slippers. She decided to head into the console room to find the Doctor.

If anything, he was rather good at getting her mind _off_ sex.

\+ + +

Donna walked into the console room, spying her own blue alien man — The Doctor. He was dressed in his usual blue pinstriped suit, and was all bones and lankiness with his legs crossed up on the console as he sat reading on the captain’s chair.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he murmured as she walked further into the room, his eyes never leaving the book on his lap.

“Yeah, I s’pose,” she replied with a shrug. “What are you reading?”

The Doctor tipped up the book for her to see as she sat by his feet against the console. “Oh, _Intercalation and Embolismic Months in 28th Century New Alexandria?_ Sounds like a barrel of laughs,” she said, chuckling a bit at him. “Do you always read such... _interesting_ books?”

He smiled at her, laying the book back down on his lap, “Well, I was reading _Bridget Jones’s Diary,_ but I accidentally left it in my hotel room back on Philommeides-12,” he scratched the back of his head and frowned a bit, “but I’ve already read it before though, so I’ll survive.”

Donna shook her head at him. _“Bridget Jones’s Diary?_ You are having me on.”

“No, I’m not. I rather like the book and the films actually. That Colin Firth is _great,_ but then I have always enjoyed the bits about him being like Austen’s Mr. Darcy. Jane Austen was really rather lovely, a great seamstress _and_ a wonderful dancer. Oh, we’d dance and dance until our legs absolutely ached! Yes, I’ll have to see her again sometime. Do you like Jane Austen?” he asked, but then continued before Donna could reply, “No, you don’t seem like the type. Anyway, I like the Bridget Jones films, but then I am a sucker for romantic comedies, if you must know, always crying during them and all that. Plus, that one friend of hers in the film — Jude, I believe her name was — rather reminds me of someone I knew once.”

“I never know if half the things you say are even true, you know,” Donna said, crossing her arms over her chest as she looked at him with an amused expression.

“Always keeps you on your toes though, doesn’t it?” he responded with a wide smile.

“Something like that, yeah.”

The Doctor bounced his head back and forth happily for a moment before returning his gaze down at the book in his lap. He looked rather like a puppy when he did that, but Donna had to admit it was somewhat endearing. He seemed to continue reading, so Donna took the opportunity to give him a good look over. She had to admit, he wasn’t so bad looking for a human-shaped alien (no matter what she chose to tell him).

Then again, that could just be her rabid hormones affecting her much like beer-goggles might do.

“You are _such_ a girl,” Donna finally said, breaking the silence between then.

“Pardon? I am _not_ a girl,” the Doctor replied, looking up at her with a dramatic gesture of his hand flat on his chest and his expression indignant.

_Yes, certainly a girl,_ Donna thought.

“Romantic comedies, Jane Austen, manicures — yeah, you are definitely a girl. In fact, if I close my eyes,” Donna closed her eyes for comic effect, “I can just about picture you with pig tails and a little sundress.”

Donna heard the soft smack of plastic from his book being tossed aside on the chair and opened her eyes to see him pull his legs from the console to sit up straight. “I can assure you, Donna Noble, I am very much _not_ a girl and, in fact, I am completely male.”

His tone was challenging and Donna was a bit taken aback by the more primal look she saw in his eyes. He’d never looked at her that way before (in fact she’d _really_ only seen it when he would gobble down chocolate bars or confront aliens with his Time Lord Grand Poobah-ness) and, she had to admit, it _was_ rather arousing.

She focused for a moment on trying to ignore the sudden resultant thrumming between her legs, instead of immediately rising to his apparent challenge. It didn’t last, though — Donna Noble was never one to back down.

Donna raised her chin defiantly in the air as she stared down the skinny Time Lord. “Prove it.”

“Excuse me?”

“If you are a male, _prove it,”_ Donna reiterated, this time with more conviction.

“And _how_ shall I do that?” his voice squeaked, going up a register.

“Show me,” she gestured at his groin, “whatever it is you have in your trousers, I want to see.”

She wasn’t sure who was more surprised at her demand — him or her. She had certainly been a bit curious about his anatomy, of course, but not really for any _sexual_ reasons. That is, unless you counted that weird dream she’d had once where he’d had these bizarre green tentacles in his trousers that could attack her in the middle of the night like some bad Japanese porn, but that was only after she’d eaten some bad sushi from the TARDIS kitchen (and, honestly, she’d just not been able to think of eating calamari again ever since).

“What I have in my trousers does not necessitate my masculinity, Donna. Plenty of aliens have no genitals at all in fact.”

“So, what, you have a…Barbie doll crotch? All smooth and flat?”

“No, of course not!” he sputtered at her. “I didn’t say that _I_ have no genitals.”

“It’s small, is that it?” Donna teased in a singsong tone. “Your Little Time Lord is, well, _little.”_

“I assure you, it is _not_ small. Well, at least by human standards. Probably compared to your average Priapussian from Enagonia or a Shingigobo tribesman, it’s on the smaller side, but,” he paused, and then looked at her for a long moment with curiosity and a bit of surprise, “You are actually serious about this, aren’t you?”

Donna straightened up. She’d already pushed things so she might as well continue. “Yeah, I am. You show me new worlds and all that, maybe I want to see more about who or _what_ I am traveling with.”

The Doctor crossed his arms over his chest as he regarded her. “Okay, Donna, but quid pro quo. You show me yours and I’ll show you mine. Seems fair.”

“Show you mine?” she asked, enunciating every word a bit loudly.

“Well, your bosom at least. Show me your breasts,” he gestured at her chest, and then _sotto voce_ added, “and I’ll show you what I ‘have in my trousers.’”

“You play dirty, Martian boy.”

“Who says that I am not just a dirty old man?” he replied with a cheeky smirk.

Donna had to admit, she was finding that she enjoyed this more naughty side of the Doctor. As for showing him her tits, well, she’d once flashed them to a few boys back in school for a tenner, so she supposed him taking her through time and space warranted at least _something._

Besides, she might as well throw him a bone — it wasn’t like he seemed to be getting any sex lately either (at least that is what she often attributed his petulant mood swings to).

“Okay, it’s a deal,” Donna proclaimed. “You show me yours and I’ll show you mine.”

The Doctor hopped down from the captain’s chair and began to unbutton his blazer.

“Are you getting completely naked?” Donna asked with surprise.

“Why? Do you _want_ me to get completely naked?” he asked, his tone more naïve than confident.

Donna screwed up her face. “I just want to see what’s in your trousers, you dunce.”

“And you will,” the Doctor said, laying his blazer over the back of the chair, “I was just trying to get a bit more comfortable first.”

The Doctor then reached down to begin to open the clasp of his trousers, but stopped and looked up at Donna. “Quid pro quo,” he admonished. “That’s the deal.”

“Yes, of course, of course,” she groaned, untying the belt of her robe and holding its lapels for when she might open it up to show the Doctor her breasts.

“So, how are we going to do this? Show one another at the same time or one of us go first?” the Doctor asked, one hand pulling down his zipper while his other hand held his trousers closed.

“You go first,” Donna blurted out, “Wait…it isn’t green with tentacles, is it?”

The Doctor laughed, “No, Donna, trust me, that was just a strange nightmare you had.”

Donna’s mouth opened in a wide surprised ‘O’ and then she glared at him, “How did you know about that?”

“You’d be surprised what I know,” he waggled his eyebrows at her, but then blushed awkwardly as she continued to glare, unaffected by his charms. “I’m telepathic remember,” he tapped his temple, backpedaling, “The TARDIS let me know you were having a nightmare, so I checked in to make sure you were okay, saw you were having strange hentai dreams apparently, and then left you alone. Simple as that, easy peasy.”

“You. Went. Into. My. Dream?”

“Just for a minute. I really didn’t see much, honest,” he held up a palm as a gesture of promise, still holding up his trousers with the other hand.

“Bloody aliens,” Donna finally groaned, rolling her eyes.

Donna then pulled the lapels of her robe tightly over her chest and stormed out of the console room toward her bedroom.

“Don’t you still want to do this?” the Doctor called out after her.

The Doctor stood outside the doorway of Donna’s bedroom several minutes later. He knocked on the door two or three times, calling out for her, but she didn’t answer. Donna had curled up in her bed to go to sleep instead. She wasn’t sure why she was so angry at the skinny-streak-of-nothing, but he’d definitely hit a nerve.

\+ + +

The next day was back to business as usual with neither of them discussing the events of the evening before. They had landed on a lush green planet called Zoja, but after enjoying the sights for a short time and attending some sort of royal banquet (courtesy of the psychic paper), the Doctor, as per usual, managed to grievously insult some dignitary while discussing eggs or some other nonsense (honestly Donna’s thoughts had wandered off to other things, as they often did when the Doctor went on a ramble, so she wasn’t sure exactly _what_ he’d said), landing the two of them rather unceremoniously in a jail cell for the evening.

Donna was stewing as she sat on a cot in the cell while the Doctor looked around, feeling up the wall, licking things, and crawling about the floor to apparently check things out. As the guards had pushed them into the cell, they’d said something to the effect of “Have a nice night with your wife” sarcastically to the Doctor, and it was suddenly all she could think about.

“Have a nice night with you wife!” she growled mockingly, finally breaking the silence between them since they had been in the cell together. “Why does everyone in the bloody universe think we are together?”

The Doctor looked over at her, his expression almost innocent. “I’ve no idea.”

Donna thought for a moment he was somewhat cute — cute in a small animal sort of way, much like a little ferret or maybe a weasel — but she quickly changed her mind when he picked up some dirt-like substance from the ground and licked it from his fingertips. She flinched in revulsion.

“What are you doing?”

“Just checking out things,” he replied, standing up and dusting off his trousers, “I am seeing if there might be a way out, checking the lay of the land, so to speak, all that.”

“And is there — a way out, I mean?”

“It’s not looking good,” the Doctor ran his hands through his hair with a sigh, ruffling it up into a comical mess. “The trial is tomorrow, though. I can get things squared away then.”

“The trial?” Donna groaned loudly, “Great.”

“Yes, there will have to be a trial. It’s Zoja law,” he replied rather matter-of-factly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the universe. Donna hated him a bit when he did that. “Don’t worry, I am completely confident that once I talk with the Queen, I will be able to get all the charges reversed and the two of us out of this predicament.”

“And how do you intend to do that? Use your cunning charms?”

“Of course,” the Doctor said haughtily, standing up straight and proud.

“Well, I think it was your cunning charms that got us in here in the first place, so please don’t blame me if I’m feeling less than confident about this trial tomorrow.”

The Doctor frowned and his shoulders slumped. He then moved over to sit next to Donna on the cot.

“So, no sonic thingy to get us out of here then?” Donna mused, leaning back against the wall by the cot.

“Sonic screwdriver,” he corrected and then sighed deeply, “And no, it was in the pocket of my coat, which they confiscated.”

“And you don’t have anything in your other pockets?”

He patted himself down, finally reaching into his trouser pocket to pull out a rubber ball, some thread, and some lint. It still never ceased to amaze her that he could hold so many things in his pockets. She had asked him about it once and he said that his pockets were much like the TARDIS and bigger on the inside (“dimensionally transcendent” or some such). She only wished that he had stowed his sonic screwdriver thing in his trousers as well.

The Doctor reached into his other pocket, pulling out a small book, and, strangely enough, a banana. “Ah, are you hungry?” he asked, holding the banana up to Donna, “We can split it.”

Donna burst into laughter suddenly.

“You have a banana in your pocket?” she asked, barely able to get the words out as she laughed.

“Yes, still looks fresh even. I love bananas.”

“You. Have. A. Banana. In. Your. Pocket?” she said again, enunciating each word, still laughing.

“Yes, I often keep a banana on me…Oh,” he paused, suddenly seeming to understand why she was laughing. He was the walking punch line of an age-old Earth joke.

The Doctor blushed suddenly, looking down at floor.

“So, I guess it’s not just that you’re happy to see me then, eh?” Donna joked, playfully nudging his shoulder with hers.

\+ + +

"I'll never get this out of my hair!" Donna groaned, realizing that she now had something in her hair from leaning against the wall by the cot. She wished she had looked before she had leant back, but between the semi-darkness of the cell and frankly being a bit preoccupied with their unfortunate circumstances, it hadn’t crossed her mind to do so.

“Hang on,” the Doctor reached behind her to touch the soiled hair and then pulled has hand back. His fingertips had a green sludgy type substance on them that he sniffed and then licked, sticking his tongue out in disgust, “Proxyumbelumcotin-2, sort of a semi-organic waste product, and a bit of dirt, rather harmless. It should come out with a few washings with shampoo, no more than two or three I would wager.”

“Can this day get any worse?” Donna sighed, rubbing the back of her neck to try and ease the tension building there and doing her best to avoid the substance in her hair.

“Come here,” the Doctor said, his voice more gentle than it often was. “Come on,” he added, patting his thigh.

Donna looked down at his thigh and then back up at him, trying to work out what he was asking of her. For a moment she wondered if it was a sexual proposition, and even more unsettling to her was that for a moment she hoped it _had_ been. She was still in desperate need of a good shag. “Excuse me?”

“Lay your head down here,” the Doctor replied, his tone now changing to being somewhat exasperated, and patted his thigh again, “I’ll give you a neck massage.”

Donna looked at him for a long moment and then curled up next to him, resting her head on his thigh. The Doctor then reached down with one hand, brushing the dirty hair to the side, and with his other began to massage her neck. Donna couldn’t help but moan from his ministrations, he was certainly rather good with his hands.

“Feeling a bit better?”

“Yeah, you’re not as good as those blue blokes on Philommeides-12, but still rather good,” Donna replied, nuzzling a bit against his thigh.

They lapsed into silence for a few minutes until Donna finally spoke again. “So, you keep bananas in your pocket, what else _do_ you keep in your trousers? Well aside from the lack of green tentacles?” Donna asked with a tease.

The Doctor’s touch was affecting more than her neck as arousal began to sweep through her limbs, so she couldn’t help moving the subject to more sexual banter.

“Ah, yes, you never found that out, did you?”

“No, I didn’t, did I? Shame.”

She coyly glanced up at the Doctor and saw him looking down at her with a surprised expression. “I seem to remember you being the one who ran off to your room.”

“I _was_ a bit angry. You went into my head and all that, without permission.”

“I’m sorry,” he said simply.

“Do you always go into people’s heads? I mean, I remember when you opened my mind to the Ood song, of course, but can you read minds? Such as now, are you reading my mind now?”

The Doctor laughed mirthlessly. “It’s something that I rarely do, honestly, and unless I am on the TARDIS and _really_ concentrating, I generally need to have some sort of contact, preferably with the person’s temples.”

“You are in contact with me right now — by massaging me, I mean.”

“Yes, and what do you want me to say? That I know you are aroused right now?”

“What?” she exclaimed, turning to look him in the eye.

“You are aroused. Of course, I don’t have to be touching you to know that. To be completely honest,” he paused as if he were trying to find the right words, “I can smell your arousal. It’s alright, it’s perfectly natural, nothing to be ashamed of.”

His tone was pretty matter-of-fact, but it still provoked Donna to move from his massage to sit up next to him.

“When did you first notice?” Donna asked, her tone almost uncharacteristically shy.

“It’s been days. At least since we got back from Philommeides-12. It’s not been all the time, but surprisingly common.”

Donna slapped his face, her shame and embarrassment propelling the attack. The Doctor moved a palm to caress the reddened skin, but he was looking at her not with shock, or anger, but with desire. Donna felt a resultant throb between her legs and suddenly pushed herself to straddle the Doctor’s lap.

“Ooof,” he exclaimed as she sat astride him, “Donna, what are you doing?”

“What do you think?” she asked, hastily working to unbutton his blazer.

“But, but — ” the Doctor stammered, all bumbling professor and nervous flailing. Donna just wanted the naughty Doctor back, the one from before with the whole “quid pro quo” nonsense.

“Look,” she grabbed his chin to look at her, “I want this and I think you want this too. It’s just a bloody shag is all and its not like we have much else to do for the next few hours before they let us out. We might as well make this a more pleasantly memorable night, eh?”

The Doctor looked at her, fear crossed his features for a moment, and then his eyes darkened and his expression became more serious, more primal. He grabbed the back of Donna’s head and began to kiss her.

Donna had to admit, the kiss was rather surprising. It was nothing like the sweet and affectionate or even awkward kisses she had pictured the Doctor giving someone — no, this kiss was animalistic and filled with need, rough in just the right ways, and, if she were honest, _really damned good._

Donna pulled at the final buttons of his blazer and pushed it over his shoulders. She then began to work on the buttons of the shirt beneath. The Doctor moved his hands down to Donna’s hips and pressed her down on himself. Donna noted with some surprise that he seemed to be hard just like a human bloke might be. She also noted how good it felt.

Donna moaned at the pressure of the Doctor’s cock against her, and then moaned even more as he deftly moved to pull her shirt over her head with the practiced grace of an expert. “Put it on the bed,” she murmured against his lips.

“What?” the Doctor asked, a bit dazed as he pulled a bit away from the kiss.

“On the bed, there is no telling what is on that floor.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with an affected Southern American drawl, tossing it to his side on the cot. Donna pulled his head back to continue the kiss.

Once his shirt was opened, Donna pushed her hands past the fabric to touch the Doctor’s skin. It was somewhat cold to the touch and she winced a bit as she could distinctly feel his ribs through his skin, but she liked the feel of his two hearts racing as she pressed her palms against his chest for leverage. Donna then began to move her hips against him and was rewarded with a growl as he bucked up against her in response.

Donna pulled away from the kiss, looking at his hands draped loosely on her hips, and then down at her chest. The Doctor followed her line of sight, practically staring at her breasts as if they were some sort of prize. Donna smirked at this — _he was going to be so easy,_ she thought.

“Go on and touch them, I can tell you’re itching to,” she said with a naughty whisper.

Moments later, the Doctor’s hard length was inside Donna as she began to ride him — almost wildly — from her position in his lap. The two of them were only half dressed — he in an open shirt and his trousers pushed down around his ankles and she with her shirt off, knickers off, and her long skirt hiked up around him — and their grunts and groans were echoing off the walls around them. At first it seemed that the Doctor was trying to be somewhat quiet, but with Donna being one who could not maintain such composure herself, he seemed to eventually let go and be loud along with her.

As Donna had anticipated, he did pull some rather funny faces while in the act, but she was thankful that with the position they were in, his long legs and pointy elbows seemed to not get in the way at all. In fact, his elbows were well out of the way as his hands were pinching her nipples in the most delightfully erotic way and that certainly felt really nice to her.

She had to admit that his cock inside her did feel rather nice as well. It wasn’t overly large, but as he had said the night before, it was not small (in fact, it was bigger than most of the blokes she’d been with, if she were honest, but she would never tell _him_ that). From what she saw of it before positioning herself above it, it actually looked rather human-like as well, albeit a bit smoother, more tapered, and with no distinguishable head.

“Is this just as you wanted it?” the Doctor huffed out, pushing his hips up to meet hers as Donna rode him, his face reddened by the exertion.

“Not so bad,” she said between pants, “But I rather thought sex with an alien would be, I don’t know, different or maybe even... better.”

“You don’t like this?” the Doctor asked, his voice almost a whimper and his big brown doe eyes looking at her as if she had kicked his puppy. The fact was, Donna _did_ like what they were doing, she just wanted...something _more._

“It’s not so bad for human-style sex,” she panted, not wanting to inflate his ego, “Is this how you usually have sex?”

“I — ” he paused, trying to catch his breath as Donna did something particularly amazing with her hips and his eyes rolled back in pleasure for a moment before looking at her again, “I don’t often have sex. Well, at least not so much lately.”

“What I meant to say is this how your — “ Donna paused, trying to figure out how to phrase her question as to bring on the least amount of angst from him. The last thing she wanted was him pouting and moping as they had sex. “Is this how your people had sex?”

The Doctor didn’t seem to even flinch at Donna’s use of the past tense in her question, but then that may have been because she distracted him a bit by moving her hips again in the way he’d recently liked, as she spoke. “Ah, you are brilliant, you are,” he growled, sounding much like he had when she was on the phone with him on the Sontaran ship. “Do that again, with your hips, yes, just like that.”

“Doctor — “

“Oh yes,” he replied, his chest heaving as he leaned forward to begin kissing Donna’s neck. “How did we have sex?” he said, speaking in between kisses, “It was usually telepathically enhanced actually.”

“Telepathically enhanced?”

“Yes, we would connect telepathically, you would feel what I feel... _Oh yes, Donna, please, keep doing that_...and...and I would feel what you feel.”

“Sounds pretty exciting,” she said, dragging her fingernails up the nape of his neck, eliciting a deep moan from him. “Too bad we can’t do that.”

“Well,” he panted, biting her neck in response, “we can. It just involves me going into your head and you said you didn’t approve of that.”

“I didn’t approve of it _without permission,”_ she gasped out, feeling the Doctor’s thrusts up into her quickening.

“Do you want to try?” he whispered, his voice sultry, his lips now near her ear.

“Yes!” she called out, bearing down on him as he moved below her.

The Doctor slid his hands from her breasts slowly up her chest, then over her shoulders, up her neck, to finally settle on her temples. “Open your mind,” he whispered, “Just like before.”

Donna suddenly felt a rush of sensations and she knew, just as he had said, that she was feeling both what he was feeling as well as what she was. _That’s it, just keep moving as we were,_ she heard him say inside her mind.

Donna began to move faster astride the Doctor, feeling a tightening in her belly as she could feel his orgasm building up inside him, feeling it almost as if it were her own. The tension built quickly between the two of them before Donna suddenly shifted off of him in the last moment — _I need to move, don’t want to get pregnant or any diseases,_ she had thought in a panic — replacing herself with her hand as he climaxed against her, his seed on her belly.

Donna looked at the Doctor breathing heavily before her, their telepathic connection now broken. “I didn’t mean,” he panted, looking a bit sheepish, “to climax before you did. It just…felt so wonderful…”

Donna shifted off his lap to stand before him, hitching up her skirt again, and roughly grabbed his hair from the back, pulling him downward toward her crotch. “Quid pro quo, Doctor,” she said with a playful smirk, “You got your orgasm and I’m damned well not leaving this cell until you give me at _least_ one as well.”

The Doctor smiled lasciviously up at her, his eyes dark and filled with desire, as he leaned forward to slowly lick his seed from her belly. Donna felt a twinge between her thighs, finding it oddly erotic to see him cleaning his own ejaculate from her, but her thoughts were soon escaping her as his mouth moved downward and his tongue began to work on the wet folds there.

Donna held his head tight against her, her hands holding fistfuls of his hair, growling and groaning as he suckled her clit and pushed his tongue in and out inside her. She had always been a bit disgusted by the way he licked things all the time, but she certainly found herself thankful for his penchant for doing so in this moment. He was rather talented with his tongue, she thought, and soon her own climax hit her hard. He held her as her knees almost buckled from the pleasurable spasms racking her body.

Donna soon moved to sit next to the Doctor, trying to catch her breath from her orgasm. He stood up next to her, pulling his trousers up over his hips, and buttoning his shirt. He then reached into one of his trouser pockets and pulled out his sonic screwdriver, twirling it in his hand as he looked down at her mischievously.

Donna’s eyes widened.

“You had that the whole time?” she exclaimed.

“Yep,” he said, dramatically popping the ‘p’, “I had snuck it out of my coat when the guard was confiscating it. A little sleight of hand never hurt anyone.”

“Never hurt anyone?” Donna growled, “We’ve been locked in this horrible cell for hours.”

The Doctor shrugged, “Yeah, well. It was the only way I thought you would do something.” He winked at her.

“What?” Donna hissed.

“Locked up here in a jail cell, all alone with me, aroused…I knew you couldn’t resist. It’s such a cliché, really,” he said with a smug look on his face.

Donna stood up and another slap cracked across the Doctor’s face. “You dirty bastard.” Then she leaned up, running a tongue along his neck, and nibbling on his ear before she whispered, “Well, while we are here, you might as well show me if there are any naughty settings on that screwdriver of yours.”

The Doctor looked back at her, turning to pull her back down on the cot with him. “Oh, Donna Noble, _I like you.”_


End file.
